


All Mine

by ryu-no-hakai (PrincessNiallxHoran)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Hanzo, Claiming, Creampie, Incest, Jealousy, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mirror Sex, Top Genji
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2019-03-21 02:29:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13731231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrincessNiallxHoran/pseuds/ryu-no-hakai
Summary: Hanzo is anticipated to court and marry one of the most well educated, wealthy women in Japan to solidify ties between clans. Wining, dining, schmoozing --But it's hard to leave Genji when he's curling his lips and whispering such rude things against his big brother's skin.





	All Mine

“Do you love her, Anija?”It doesn’t bother him so much that Genji asks, but he can’t deny that the discomfort in his tone is slightly unnerving. Hanzo’s hands slow where they’re adjusting the collar of his button down in front of the mirror, chancing a glance back to where his little brother lays stark naked, sprawling out on the heir’s bed as though he had naught a shame in the world. At first he considers pretending not to hear the question. He directs his eyes instead to where his fingers smooth starched fabric down and ensures he doesn’t appear as though he’d spent that afternoon speared on his kin’s dick and nestled into his side for pillow talk after, regardless of how true it was.

“You know better.” Hanzo doesn’t mean for it to sound quite as cold as it does, but despite it, Genji only seems to let his shoulders relax at the reassurance. It doesn’t exist in his big brother to be tender with him, and he knows that his Anija doesn’t say anything without  _ meaning _ . He’s fueled by the words and sits up a bit, spreading his legs slightly further apart and letting his lips curl into something smug and, in Hanzo’s opinion, quite dangerous.

“How do you think she’d feel if she knew you were full of my come when you’re sitting across from her at that fancy table tonight?” Hanzo’s fingers stumble where he’s trying to loop his tie, his eyes flicking up to the way his brother is exposing himself, tracing long digits along the inseam of his pale thigh adjacent to the thickening cock between his thighs. “How do you think she’d feel if she knew her nearly betrothed absolutely  _ whines _ each night for his  _ Otouto _ to finger him faster before he’s desperate and begging for something  _ bigger _ ? That he’s going to come back  _ tonight _ , achingly empty and unsatisfied?”

Hanzo swallows thickly, doing his absolute best to ignore the words that filter into his ear. He notices the shift as his brother stands, making his way behind the elder and pressing his own chest against the broad expanse of muscled back and shoulders. His spine tightens as Genji settles his face into the crook of that strong neck, nosing through the silky black hair he’s spent God only knows how many hours admiring over the years. Hanzo does little to stop him, enjoying the familiar weight and the way that warm, soft skin brushes against the backs of his thighs below the edges of his compression shorts.

“Genji -- I have to get ready.” Hanzo’s eyes no longer meet the mirror, instead settling on the large hand that cups over the curve of his hip, sneaking up under the white silk of the shirt he wore. He can feel the way Genji shifts, tilting his head up as though to look at the both of them in that reflective surface.

“Look at you. Trying to ignore me.” Hanzo is so fixated at the hand rolling firm against his bone that he barely registers fingers tangling somewhere near the nape of his neck. “Trying to ignore  _ us _ .” And then Genji is pulling, sharp and with purpose so that Hanzo has no choice but to address their reflection in that full length mirror --  the slight flush to his cheeks and the stark contrast of his little brother’s vulnerable skin in comparison to the fabric protecting his own.

“ _ Look at you _ .”

Somewhere deep inside, Hanzo finds it a little amusing that the younger needs so little to amp himself, the libido of a young Shimada lying somewhere between a mouse and a rabbit. After all, he’d barely given his brother anything to go off of -- a simple, generic reassurance that should have only soothed rather than invited. He ignores the way being desired sends a jolt between his thighs, making an attempt instead to focus somewhere on the bed in the reflection behind them. It works, almost, or at least so he believes.

“Ah-ah. I said  _ look _ .” And then Genji is tugging sharply at his hair, sending pinpricks of white hot pain straight to the swell of his needy cock. Hanzo lets out something akin to a whimper, falling into the roles that his brother has set for them.  _ He’s _ the one entertaining one of the wealthiest, most influential women that evening.  _ He’s _ the one abandoning their bed to sit up and smile over steaming glasses of sake and rich, expensive food.  _ He’ll _ be the one playing by  _ Genji’s _ rules.

His blown pupils settle on Genji’s face, meeting that satisfied catlike smirk before he’s focusing on his own expression, admittedly startled with how far gone he’s managed to get in just a few short minutes. His lips are parted, pink from when he hadn’t realized he’d been biting them, and the hair that he’d combed down neatly was falling in front of his eyes and obscuring the view of his face only slightly. Genji soothes against the skin of his shoulder, something between praising and chiding and slowly lets go of the thick handful of hair he’s clinging to. Instead, he takes a careful moment to gather from the front, collecting it away from his Anija’s face and wrapping it once, twice, three times around the width of his fist.

“She’ll never have you like this.” It’s not really just a statement, it’s a command, and Hanzo can only nod as far as his little brother will let him. The fingers curl at his hip yet again and he can feel the length of Genji’s cock push up and drag down over the fabric covering his ass. He gives another noise, soft and compliant.

He mourns the loss of the digits at his hip for a short moment, only forgetting their absence when Genji is forcing them down the back of his shorts accompanied by a kick to one of his socked feet, forcing his knees further apart. There’s a short moment where shame takes him, his brother’s fingers teasing between his cheeks where the evidence of their previous romp still lingers but it subsides when the intake of breath tickles by his ear.

“You  _ would _ have been filled with my come.  _ Filthy _ , Anija. Simply  _ filthy _ .” Before he can respond, two fingers are pressing past his rim, toying at his already stretched hole and teasing up against the secretive gland that makes Hanzo see stars. All throughout, Genji holds his brother steady, the constant tug against his scalp hidden somewhere in the back of his mind as all he can see are his Sparrow’s eyes trained on their reflection -- on  _ him _ .

Genji is still in control -- just barely. He still owns the situation and owns his brother in equal measure, but the image before them is most certainly taking its toll. He’s flush, all pretty parted lips and eyes dilated black, rim of his iris all but lost in his need.

Those fingers stop stretching and start pushing, instead nudging deeper and deeper until they can go no further. Another slips inside, suffering no resistance from the soft rim, even as Hanzo’s body clenches around them. He’s struggling to figure out what to look at, so he settles for his own expression as Genji had demanded, almost in awe as to how his features alter with each twitch and dive within him.

He’s about to cry out for more -- that Genji just  _ isn’t giving him enough _ \-- when it seems that the younger’s patience has all but run out. Instead he can feel come-slick fingers dragging the elastic down over his hips, and he follows how that hand in his hair forces his body forward, bending to provide access to the absolute mess between his cheeks that his brother owns.

Even like this, he keeps Hanzo’s neck craned to focus on his expression in the mirror, so close his breath fogs up against the surface and he can brace his hands there while his little brother fumbles a moment in the slick to slide home. Once Genji is inside, the elder makes no attempt to keep quiet, soft shouts and cries with each thrust streaming out of him with reckless abandon. It’s not fair, really. If his Otouto would slow his hips he’d be able to swallow his sobs as he usually would, but despite the clear jealousy, the consequence of the heir being late is far more stressful than savoring the moment.

Besides, Hanzo thinks, it’s not as though this is an act of love. Of  _ course _ Genji loves him,  _ adores  _ him, but right now it’s not about affection or feeling. It’s animalistic -- something about rutting and feeling and  _ taking _ , and in many ways for the eldest it’s something akin to catharsis. So when his brother sinks his teeth harshly into the meat of his exposed neck and growls his completion, he can’t say he’s surprised. It’s supposed to leave a lasting  _ impression _ \-- not to  _ last _ , after all.

Initially he hadn’t even noticed his own breathy release, too caught up in how Genji grinds his hips as deep as he can, savoring the flavor of Hanzo’s walls lovingly.

“We’ll keep this one in for her too, won’t we, Anija?” It’s something like a threat.  _ You’ll hold me within every moment you see her like a good boy. _ And all he can do is nod dumbly, too blissed out and disheveled to argue. Genji slips out of the disaster left in his wake and immediately pushes the load eager to slip out right back inside with two thick fingers, stealing soft groans and weak noises in his wake.

“Keep it  _ in _ while I get something to keep it there.”

//

To Hanzo’s delight, the plug at dinner hadn’t been as uncomfortable as he’d feared, and the hot swell of Genji swimming in his belly soothed any concern he may have had.


End file.
